


keep me grounded, keep me afloat

by prototyping



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Male My Unit | Byleth, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Prompt Fic, genfic, how many times can I rewrite this scene? a lot, now with two dudes being bros, quick fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prototyping/pseuds/prototyping
Summary: Dimitri wasn’t leaving, but perhaps that was because he didn’t know where to go.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	keep me grounded, keep me afloat

**Author's Note:**

> spur-of-the-moment fic done for the Whumptober2020 prompt "support," because male Byleth needs content and I just think he's neat

Byleth wasn’t entirely sure why he held out his hand.

It was impulsive to a degree, bordering on illogical considering the number of times Dimitri had ignored it, even batted it away when he could have actually used the help to stand. Now, as they both stood upright in the cool rain, he supposed it was a gesture more than an offer－the silent assurance that he was still there, just as he had been and would continue to be, as well as he was able.

So he was surprised when Dimitri actually took it.

Despite the deliberate action, Dimitri looked surprised himself. For a long moment he did nothing else, simply holding his professor’s hand neither tightly nor loosely, but steadily, as though it were the only thing he saw clearly and he might drift away if he let go, back into the grasp of the dead at his back and their relentless demands for his life. His lips might have moved, but any words were lost beneath the pounding torrent around them.

Holding on seemed to give him some sort of comfort, so Byleth simply returned his grip and waited.

Something in Dimitri’s posture shifted. It was difficult to pinpoint, but Byleth suspected it was the last of the tension easing from his shoulders, or perhaps acceptance settling into his exhausted bones. Whatever the case, it seemed a safe bet that Dimitri was done resisting.

Eventually, when they were both well past soaked to their skins, Dimitri’s grip weakened and fell away. At Byleth’s questioning look, the prince glanced aside, turning his blind eye toward him.

“You can rest easy, Professor. I’m not leaving.” It was barely a murmur, but there was a conviction in it that Byleth caught all the same. He believed him.

For a moment more they stood there in silence. Dimitri wasn’t leaving, but perhaps that was because he didn’t know where to go.

Coming to a decision, Byleth reached out again and this time he took hold of Dimitri’s wrist. That earned a surprised glance, but Dimitri didn’t question or shake him off. When Byleth turned on his heel with an inviting tug, Dimitri followed, and once it was clear he’d fallen into step with no intention of breaking away, Byleth released him.

As they neared the dorms, Dimitri’s step faltered. Byleth turned back and found his friend’s face divided, frowning down at the ground.

“You should rest,” Byleth implored. “Your wounds need it.” His mind, as well, if not most of all. The observation was blunt, but not unkind.

Dimitri drew a deep, quiet breath. “I don’t know if I can.” He hesitated. Winced. “Not there. Not yet.”

Byleth’s face rippled with mild puzzlement, but then he caught on. “I see.”

When was the last time he’d seen Dimitri sleep within the borders of the army’s camp during their marches? Not once, he was sure. Whatever paranoia and survival habits he’d developed in the last five years, they clearly weren’t about to be shaken so easily.

Even so, letting him return to the cathedral didn’t seem like a good idea. He’d spent enough restless nights in there as it was and Byleth didn’t trust the place to provide him with any semblance of peace just yet.

That didn’t leave many options.

“Would the staff offices be alright?” he asked after a moment. “It should be quiet over there.” Minimal traffic and minimal noise, especially at this time of day.

Dimitri paused, considering that, and then finally nodded.

Ten minutes later they stepped into Jeralt’s old office.

Byleth didn’t watch Dimitri for a reaction－whether he noticed that the room was strangely clean after five years of disuse, or that it was organized and tidy despite surely having been torn apart by looters like most other areas of the monastery－but only indicated the two couches in the middle of the room with a gesture.

“You can rest there, if you want. It’s a bit small for you, but it should be comfortable enough.” More than the floor, surely.

As Byleth moved toward the desk, Dimitri hesitated, perhaps wondering about the blanket and pillows that were already there, or whether Byleth spoke from personal experience. In the end, he didn’t comment, but his acceptance was voiced in the sounds of his cloak and armor being removed.

Byleth also stripped out of his sopping coat and most of his outer clothes, but the rain had soaked him all the way through. He gathered the pieces, and then moved to retrieve Dimitri’s, as well, at which the prince eyed him.

“You don’t have to do that,” he muttered gruffly.

“If I don’t want you catching a chill, I do.” Byleth quickly collected the garments and then offered him an easy smile. Dimitri wore only his trousers and a troubled frown; Byleth made a point not to so much as glance at the numerous scars that marked the other man’s skin all over. “I’ll find us both a change of clothes.” He hesitated at the door. “I’ll be back,” he added.

That reassurance seemed to put Dimitri at ease, if the softening of his expression and the slight drop of his shoulders were anything to go by.

Luckily, a second walk through the rain wasn’t necessary. One of the rooms on the first floor had been converted into an extra laundry space to account for all the soldiers and extra people, so finding some clean shirts and pants was a brief task. After wringing out their wet clothes and hanging them to dry, Byleth returned upstairs.

Dimitri was down to his smallclothes now by the looks of it, although he had the blanket drawn across his lap as he sat hunched over on the couch that faced the door. Byleth set the dry clothes on the table before claiming the opposite couch.

“Stay as long as you need. I’m the only one who uses this room.” And rarely so, these days.

Dimitri studied him. “You’re staying?”

“Will it bother you if I do?”

“No,” he answered quickly, quietly. “But－if it’s just for my sake, you…”

Byleth held his gaze evenly. “I want to be here.”

Whether the certainty in his tone was enough, or Dimitri was wary of touching on something personal, or he was simply too tired to say anything else, he appeared to accept that explanation.

He didn’t lie down, but he found a position that must have been comfortable while accommodating the wound in his back, since he seemed to relax after a while, even closing his eye as he allowed his head to rest on the back of the couch. It was probably the most at ease he’d looked in years.

Byleth didn’t watch him, but he kept note of him in the corner of his eye out of habit. Dimitri appeared to start dozing after half an hour or so, but Byleth avoided making any noise whenever he moved, just in case.

For the first time in days, he felt himself relax properly. During their return march from Gronder, he’d been fearful of finding what he did tonight－Dimitri, broken and grieving and prepared to do something reckless－and had little time for rest between constantly checking to make sure he hadn’t disappeared.

The fact that he’d stopped him tonight was a relief, but it sat heavy and uneasy in his chest to know he’d only done so narrowly.

After a while, Byleth let his gaze wander over to inspect Dimitri’s sleeping form. He’d seen the prince’s scars in passing before, but he didn’t recall this many. Some looked like mere scratches, others much worse; their dark shades and sharp edges suggested they had been left to heal naturally rather than by magic.

He frowned as he looked back up towards the ceiling.

When he awoke, the rain had stopped and the sun was up. Dimitri was gone.

Byleth bolted upright, his memories and dreams and the anxiety of the last week all rolling into one and sending him into a confused panic. Movement caught his eye and he twisted in his seat to find Dimitri paused midstep near the door. He met Byleth’s gaze for all of a second before avoiding it just as swiftly.

“I need to think for a bit.” _Alone_ was the unspoken implication. His voice was still thick with sleep, suggesting he hadn’t been awake long. “...I apologize if I woke you,” he added momentarily, a little awkwardly.

Any unease Byleth felt at the ambiguity of Dimitri’s destination abruptly dissipated. It was brief, but he’d caught a glimpse just now of the man he knew－the same he’d seen in the rain last night, who was still very much alive despite his angry claims previously.

Byleth nodded. “I’ll see you later, then.”

Dimitri continued to linger in place, as though debating his response to that thinly disguised question.

Finally, he pulled the door open, only to pause again on the threshold.

“You will,” he agreed, in a voice so low that Byleth almost missed it. Then he was gone without so much as a glance back, leaving Byleth feeling the most hopeful that he had in five years.


End file.
